WILD ANIMALS OF AFRICA

ON the edge of Big Desert, which was next to Sandy Flat, lived a queer little Wild Creature by the name of Jumper the Jerboa. Jumper was a little more than half a foot long, not including his tail. His tail was about eight inches long, and was decorated with a tuft of hair at the tip. But the queer thing about him was his legs. He had very long hind legs and short front ones, like Joey the Kangaroo; and instead of walking, he jumped on his long hind legs while holding his short front ones close to his chest.

Jumper the Jerboa lived in a Friendly Burrow with a large company of friends. All of them had helped to dig the burrow in the hard, pebbly ground. It was quite a job digging in the dry earth with only their little front feet and their teeth to remove the pebbles. But the jerboas must not have minded digging, for they made four tunnels to their Friendly Burrow before they stopped. Then they built a cozy bed and lined it with their own fur.

You see, the jerboas thought that if a Lurking Enemy came after them through one of the doorways, they could escape through the others. But when Black Hunter found their Friendly Burrow, he was not so easily fooled. He would stop all the doorways but one and then place a net over it for the jerboas to run into. For Black Hunter prized them highly as Favorite Food.

It surely was a desolate country where Jumper the Jerboa and his friends lived. One would think that they would not have many neighbors, but they did. There were the sand grouse and the desert larks and the coursers and the lizards and the snakes and many other desert creatures.

One of the jerboa's strangest looking neighbors was Gerenuk. Gerenuk was sometimes called "little camel" by Black Hunter because he had such a long neck. His neck stuck out like a young giraffe's. It was almost as long as his body. But it was a great help to him sometimes. His Favorite Food was tender twigs, and if he could not reach them with his long neck, he stood on his hind legs as Billy the Goat does and put his front feet against the trunk of the thorn trees and the acacias which grew in that wilderness.

Perhaps the strangest thing about Gerenuk was that he never drank. He did not seem to mind the heat, but would move about all day under the Burning Sun and never give a thought to drinking even if water were near. Of course, Gerenuk needed a rest sometimes, as everyone else does, and then he would often seek the shade of an acacia bush or thorn tree.

Now Jumper the Jerboa had another neighbor who was not to be trusted. He had large ears, larger than Reddy Fox's ears in proportion to his size, and he was an expert digger. In fact, he could rival Digger the Badger for speed. If he were in danger, it seemed as if he could fairly sink from sight in the sand. His name was Bushtail the Fennec, and he was Reddy Fox's cousin.

Bushtail lived in a Cozy Den that he had dug near a desert plant. He had made it near to the Cozy Dens of other fennecs, for the fennecs like near neighbors.

Bushtail believed in keeping a comfortable and clean home. Inside his Cozy Den he made a snug bed, which he lined with hair, feathers, fine grasses, and other soft things. He spent the hot day curled up in his snug bed sound asleep, with his head under his bushy tail. At night he roamed over the sandy wastes of Big Desert looking for birds, small animals, and other Favorite Food.

One evening, as the Burning Sun was bowing good day in the Flaming West, Bushtail the Fennec left his Cozy Den and went prowling. First he went down Little Valley that led to his favorite drinking place. Bushtail always preferred to follow Little Valley rather than climb over piles of sand. Then he started out across Big Desert to see what he could find.

Now, Jumper the Jerboa had been sleeping in his Friendly Burrow all day. If the days were damp or rainy he kept right on sleeping for he greatly disliked wet weather. He was like some of the Wild Creatures who sleep all winter in cold countries. But when the days were bright, he often came out of his Friendly Burrow early in the evening and sat in the warm sunshine.

So it was that when Bushtail left his snug bed and started for his favorite drinking place, Jumper the Jerboa was enjoying the last of his sunbath for that day. Then he went jumping across the pebbly ground that lay in front of his Friendly Burrow, stopping here and there to nibble a tempting leaflet or search beneath the bushes for hard little seeds to munch. That was what jumper was doing when Bushtail the Fennec spied him sometime later.

There was Jumper in the bright moonlight, hopping in and out among some rocks, hoping that he would find some juicy berries on the bushes that were growing among them, or a crawly insect.

Bushtail the Fennec crept up softly behind a rock. He had to be careful not to step on dry twigs or noisy pebbles, for that would have warned Jumper that a Lurking Enemy was near.

Suddenly a black shadow shot across where Jumper was sitting. He was terribly frightened, for he had heard no noise. He hopped into a deep crevice between the rocks and sat listening. Soon he heard Bushtail the Fennec sniffing in the deep crevice and trying to crowd into the narrow opening. But Bushtail soon found out that he was not small enough to follow jumper into the deep crevice between the rocks, and he went on about his business.

When Jumper the Jerboa was sure that Bushtail had gone away, out he came and hurried toward his Friendly Burrow as fast as his long jumps could carry him. It is doubtful if he knows to this day that it was Lightwing the Owl sailing silently overhead in the bright moonlight who warned him with his shadow. But, then, if Lightwing the Owl had seen jumper the Jerboa, he would have tried as hard as Bushtail the Fennec did to catch him, for Lightwing was out looking for his supper also. So Jumper really had two narrow escapes.

TIPPU-TIB the Arab looked with disgust at the wobbly-legged baby camel that had been born among his herd of camels during the night. He was disgusted because it was black. If it had been sandy-colored, or white, or gray, or brown, that would have pleased him; but black, bah ! Black camels were considered worthless by TippuTib.

Tippu-Tib went about his business of putting sulphur on some of his camels that were mangy, stopping now and then to pull off a plump tick.

Within a week after he was born, Mehari the Camel was three feet high and quite strong on his legs. He would keep right on growing until he was around sixteen years old. Perhaps, if all went well, he would live to be fifty years old, but Mehari cared nothing about that. All he wanted was plenty of rich milk from his mother and to be let alone.

Because Mehari's mother was too old to be used, and because Tippu-Tib the Arab thought that Mehari, being black, was no good, Mehari was let alone and permitted to run with the other unused camels. Perhaps Tippu-Tib the Arab thought that when Mehari was large enough, he would kill him for meat.

So Mehari the Camel grew. He learned to eat the desert shrubs without hurting his mouth, regardless of how thorny they were. After his mother died, he learned to drink water, when water was near, or go without a drink many days, as the other camels did, when no water was to be had.

Like other camels, Mehari had many small pockets in the walls of his stomach, which held water for time of need. The hump on his back became firm and well-filled with fat, which sustained his strength when there was no Favorite Food. His near relative, Bactrian the Camel, whose home is Asia, has two humps on his back.

The African camels are often called "dromedary," from a Greek word that means "running" or "to run;" and, because of their speed, many of them are trained especially for riding. But the two-humped camel is better for carrying heavy loads.

When Mehari was born, he already had callous pads on his chest, elbows, and knees on which he rested when he lay down. His neck was long and curved, his ears were small, and his upper lip was divided like Peter Rabbit's. His feet had thick padlike soles, and although they had two toes each on the top, they were not divided on the bottom, as if they were made especially for walking on sand. When he walked, he stepped forward with both feet on one side at a time, then with both feet on the other side. Thus his weight always rested on at least two feet at once, and he was not so likely to sink into the sand.

One day there came to visit Tippu-Tib a black man by the name of Ali the Somali. Ali was half Arab and half Somali. Although he was distantly related to Tippu-Tib the Arab, he lived with the Somali people.

Now the Somali kept many camels, but their neighbors the Masai raised sheep and cattle. The warriors from the Somali and the Masai often fought each other because of grazing land needed for their stock.

So when Ali the Somali saw Mehari the Camel, and that Mehari was not wanted by Tippu-Tib because he was black, he offered to buy Mehari and take him home with him. Thus it was that Ali the Somali became his master.

Ali the Somali seemed to know how to get along with camels. When Mehari was four years old, Ali put him to work. Although there are some people who say that camels are extremely stupid, and have a temper and disposition of the worst sort, still Mehari soon became friendly and obedient to Ali.

If Ali wanted Mehari to kneel so that he could mount him or place a burden on his back, he would make a scraping noise as if he were clearing his throat. Then if Mehari did not understand or obey, Ali would give Mehari's beard a tug to remind him what was wanted. So Mehari became well trained for either riding or carrying a burden.

Sometimes Ali the Arab would use Mehari in a caravan carrying goods across desert wastes. As the long line of loaded camels toiled slowly across the hot sand, Ali would trudge by Mehari's side chanting a song with words of endearment and praise which he made up for Mehari. He would say to Mehari that he was a most beautiful friend; that none was so swift, so strong, so brave. He would sing many other extravagant praises about Mehari's virtues, and Mehari seemed to understand and like it.

When the caravan stopped to rest, Ali would give Mehari some dry grass and grain if he had some. If he had no grain, Ali would feed Mehari two double handfuls of dried dates. Ali took good care of all his camels, for they not only carried him and his burdens, but furnished him milk and meat. He used their hair for weaving cloth for garments, bags, and tents, and he twisted it into rope. In fact, his camels furnished about everything that Ali needed for a simple life.

Sometimes Ali would make long rides. Almost always he chose Mehari to ride at such times, for Mehari was fast and tireless. He could travel a hundred miles in a day unless something made the going difficult. If they ran into a sandstorm, Mehari would lie down with his back toward the wind, stretch out his long neck flat on the ground, and there he would stay until the storm was past. Ali would snuggle up close to Mehari and cover himself with a blanket to keep out the cutting sand.

One day when Ali was returning home on the back of Mehari, he met a large caravan. There was riding at the head of the caravan a White Man whose camel was sick and scarcely able to carry him. When he saw Mehari, and noticed that he was walking along at a lively clip, he decided he would like Mehari for his own riding camel.

"How much will you take for that camel?" he asked.

"Mehari very good friend. Mehari not for sale," replied Ali.

"I'll give you ten pounds for him," said the White Man.

Ali shook his head.

"Fifteen?"

"No," said Ali.

The White Man looked at his own riding camel. It was a good beast, but something had gone wrong with it. Perhaps Ali knew what it was.

"I'll give you this camel and twenty-five pounds," said the White Man, when he saw that Ali made ready to pass on.

Ali was perplexed. True, he had other camels. And the one he would be getting would doubtless be all right in a day or two. Twenty-five pounds! How he hated to part with him! He would make it impossible for the White Man to buy him.

"Forty pounds and camel," he said, feeling sure that no one would pay that much. (Forty pounds is about one hundred sixty dollars in American money.)

The White Man promptly took out his wallet and passed the money to Ali.

Ali was surprised and disappointed, but he would not go back on his word. He put the money in a bag on the side of his camel's saddle, and placed the saddle on his new possession. Then he trudged off toward home, leading the sick camel, and never so much as looking back.

Now Mehari had never been ridden by a White Man, and he did not understand the White Man's words nor was he familiar with his ways. And so it was not long until there was trouble.

Mehari did not know when the White Man wanted him to keel. He did not understand what the White Man was doing when he bound the lower part of one of his forelegs flat against the upper part so that he could not put his foot on the ground. That was usually done to prevent a camel from running away and leaving his master on the desert, but Ali had trained Mehari to stay without it. When Mehari was slow about obeying commands, the White Man became impatient.

Mehari had never been struck in his life. And when he felt a blow on his rump he kicked out viciously. It was a narrow escape for the White Man, and he decided to exchange camels with one of the natives until Mehari got over his anger. So the native transferred the burden from another camel to Mehari's back, and things went along better. White men never seem to get along with camels so well as black men do.

But Mehari grew sulky. He seemed to watch for chances to be stubborn. He complained whenever the burden was placed on his back. He had outbreaks of mad rage at certain times when he was near other camels. If his caravan met another on a narrow trail, he would turn his head and try to bite any man riding by. Even at that, Mehari was no worse than most of the camels.

Then one night he managed in some way to free himself. While his tired master lay asleep, he wandered far out on the Big Desert. When the caravan was ready to start another day's journey, Mehari was far, far away. Rather than delay his journey, the White Man decided to go on without Mehari.

Now it happened that one day as Ali the Somali was riding across Big Desert he saw in the sand the tract of a lone camel.

"Mehari! he cried. "That is Mehari's track. I would know it anywhere."

Although it may seem strange to us, many camel drivers know their beasts so well that they recognize their footprints.

Ali turned and followed the lone tracks. He saw where the camel had stopped to browse on a thorn bush here and there. Then the tracks went on. At last Ali's sharp eyes spied a dark form in the distance. He urged his riding-camel to a winging run. When he was near enough he called.

"Mehari! Mehari! "

Then he started singing all those words of praise that Mehari knew so well. Although the song would have sounded strange to us, Mehari seemed to understand and like it. He was very, very happy to be with his old master again.

RATEL the Honey Badger was hungry. He had been looking all night for Favorite Food, but had found little. His Favorite Food was honey and bee grubs, but he was also fond of birds and frogs and small mammals and insects. And one of his tricks was to raid chicken coops. Usually he and Mrs. Ratel went together, but this time he had gone off alone.

The Ratels lived in Bamboo Thicket. They were cousins of Snoop the Weasel; and in habits, form, and size they much resembled Digger the Badger. Ratel had a very short tail, and his ears were too small to be worth mentioning. His body was stout, and his legs were short. On his front feet were powerful claws with which he dug out small mammals. He also used them for tearing apart hollow den trees in which buzzy bees kept their store of honey. His skin was so thick he did not mind at all if the buzzy bees stung him.

Ratel the Honey Badger wore a most unusual coat. That is, its color was unusual. The coat of almost all Wild Animals is darker on the back than on the stomach, but Ratel was different. The upper part of his head, body and tail was whitish gray, while his face and stomach and legs were black.

Ratel always did his prowling at night, so that he was seldom seen. When the first blush of morning tinted the eastern sky, he would steal back to his Friendly Burrow in Bamboo Thicket and there he would sleep through the livelong day. But this morning he had stayed out later than usual, hoping that he might find one last tempting morsel before he went home to his Friendly Burrow. Then, as he was almost ready to give up, he heard a familiar twittering in a tree near by. Ratel looked up, and there sat Honey Guide fluttering with excitement.

"Come with me and I will show you something good," said the bird.

"It is time that I should be home," replied Ratel. "I am late."

"Oh, do come with me," urged Honey Guide. "I promise you a feast."

Now, Ratel had met Honey Guide before in the wildwood, and Honey Guide had led him to an old log in which the buzzy bees had stored their honey. After a few swift strokes of his powerful claws, Ratel had enjoyed a banquet. Then Honey Guide had hopped down and eaten some of the bee grubs and honey.

Of course Ratel was usually back in his Friendly Burrow before Honey Guide was awake in the morning, and Honey Guide was usually asleep in a stately tree before Ratel left his Friendly Burrow in the evening. So they did not often see each other. Sometimes when Honey Guide discovered the home of some buzzy bees he would lead Fearful the Man to it. But sometimes he played tricks on Fearful the Man. Instead of guiding him to a store of Honey, he would lead Fearful the Man to a wild animal or a snake or a crocodile.

Honey Guide fluttered and twittered impatiently.

"It's only a short way," he urged.

So Ratel the Honey Badger turned and followed Honey Guide as he flitted from tree to tree twittering all the while to urge Ratel to hurry. But Ratel could not be expected to go as fast on his short legs as Honey Guide could with his fleet wings.

If Ratel had known the trouble that Honey Guide was leading him into, he would have hurried home; but Ratel did not know until it was too late.

At last they came to a small clearing. There was a crude hut in which Fearful the Man lived, but Honey Guide did not seem to care. Over on one side were some queer-looking round-topped hives in which Fearful the Man kept his buzzy bees. Yes, sir; Honey Guide had discovered Fearful's buzzy bees and had taken Ratel straight to them. All the while Ratel had supposed he was going to an old log in the wildwood where he could feast in safety.

Ratel stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked around. It was still early in the morning, and everything seemed quiet. But Ratel was doubtful. He was quite sure that Rover the Dog was not far away, because every settler had at least one dog.

"Come on," twittered Honey Guide; "the feast is right over here."

It certainly was tempting, and Ratel was very hungry. He decided maybe he could enjoy a good meal before he was discovered. So he sneaked through the weeds to one of the queer-looking hives. Ratel knew how to go about tearing it apart, for he had discovered some of them himself one dark night and had raided them when everyone was sound asleep.

Rip, rip! went his strong claws, and one of the hives toppled over. Out came the buzzy bees fighting mad. They buzzed angrily around Ratel, but he paid not the slightest heed to them. Honey Guide was all aflutter with excitement. He hopped down close to see what Ratel had found inside the round-topped hive.

Suddenly there was a loud bark behind them, and Rover the Dog burst out of the weeds upon them. He pounced upon Ratel the Honey Badger and rolled him over on the ground. There were fierce growls as they tore at each other, and the leaves and weeds flew as they rolled about. Rover's sharp teeth could not do much damage to Ratel's tough hide, and Ratel had a mean temper. But Rover was hanging grimly to one of Ratel's feet and chewing it as best he could. It was very painful for Ratel.

Then the buzzy bees decided to take a hand. They swarmed upon Rover and Ratel and jabbed them with their sharp stingers. They covered Rover's face and stung him around the eyes, and also on his nose where there was not much hair.

Rover released his hold on Ratel's foot and ran yelping to Trickly Little Creek that flowed near by. Then he jumped right into Deep Pool and washed the buzzy bees all off. Ratel limped painfully into the wildwood as Fearful the Man came out of his hut to see what such a commotion meant.